


All Those Years

by twisting_vine_x



Category: Conqueror of Shamballa - Fandom, Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Post-Conqueror of Shamballa - Fandom
Genre: Brand new relationship, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Roy being the best boyfriend, Roy is terribly in love and thinks it's unrequited, Roy!POV, Set a few years after Conqueror of Shamballa, except they're not actually in A Relationship, it's not, it's really not, so much pining, they're just Having Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-08 00:27:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8822389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twisting_vine_x/pseuds/twisting_vine_x
Summary: A/N: Set a few years after CoS, with Roy and Edward sleeping together and unknowingly breaking each other's hearts in the process. Summary: 
  A half hour later, and Edward is passed out sound asleep in Roy's bed.

  He's wearing one of Roy's housecoats, and he's curled up in a ball with his head on Roy's pillow.

  Roy stares at him for a moment before he turns and walks out of the room.

  Brandy. Brandy, and paperwork. Right now, he can't deal with the man curled up asleep in his bed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: The other day I was just like 'oh god what if Edward decided to cut his hair' and then somehow that little self-prompt spiraled into this clusterfuck of CoS-verse feelings and so much fucking pining.

Edward is sitting across the table from him, and Roy is having trouble breathing.

It's still weird, after all the years, to only be able to watch Edward with one eye. Roy's not sure he'll ever get truly used to it. But – by some miracle – Edward's alive, and Roy's alive, and they're in the same world, so Roy has literally nothing to complain about. He'd already be the luckiest man in any universe, just having Edward alive, but throw in the fact that they're... well. _This_ – whatever this is – and he's pretty sure that he must have actually done something decent in a past life to deserve the miracle he's gotten in this one.

He's got Edward in his bed, and in his life. That's definitely nothing short of a miracle.

Of course, silently pining and desperately wishing for _more_ has a habit of stinging something awful.

“Spent some more time at the library today. Surprising, I know. Turns out there _are_ actually some books there that I haven't read.”

Edward's scowling as he says it, like he's personally affronted by the fact that he hasn't managed to read his entire way through Amestris' library yet, and Roy watches as Edward glares at his food and mulishly stabs at it with a fork.

It shouldn't warm Roy from the inside out.

“Mmm.”

It's not much of a response, but he gets like this sometimes. Edward starts talking, and Roy just sits and listens, making occasional noises of recognition. He could listen to Edward talk for hours, really. Months. Years. Forever. As long as Edward would have him.

Dangerous thought. Roy really shouldn't go there. Not with Edward sitting right in front of him. How can he _not_ , though?

“There something on my face?”

Edward's glaring at him, now, but Roy thinks there might be a hint of something uncomfortable in his eyes, and it sends panic screaming through him. Carefully, he straightens his back and folds his hands on the table, and then thinks better, reaching out to tug – carefully, oh-so carefully – on a strand of Edward's hair. He puts barely any pressure on it, but maybe it will be stupid enough to deter Edward's attention, maybe it it will distract him from the fact that Roy is _staring_ at him.

It doesn't, apparently. Because Edward doesn't snort, or bat his hand away. He just stares at him, barely blinking, a slight tinge of pink starting to crawl across his face and down his neck, and Roy swallows, dropping his hand as he looks away. It leaves a crushing silence between them, and Roy could kick himself, his stomach doing something gross as it twists unpleasantly tight.

If he gives himself away, this ends. He knows it will.

“I, uh... I'm thinking of cutting it off, actually.” The words take a moment to process, with how uncertain Edward sounds. Then – even in the midst of the utter fucking crisis in his head – Roy can't help the way his hands clench, the instinctive _no_ that immediately wants to burst out.“S'just... annoying, ya know? I mean, I don't know if you actually know, I dunno if you've ever had long hair, but it just... it gets everywhere. And I think I'm starting to get sick of taking care of it, maybe.”

Edward still sounds a little rattled, and this is probably a stupid conversation to be having right now. Roy's still not sure that he didn't give away more than he wanted to, earlier.

Still, if there's one thing he can do, it's putting up an act.

“You would look gorgeous in a burlap sack with no hair at all, Edward.” The words roll off as easy as breathing - because it's _true_ , every word of it, and he wants Edward to do whatever he wants with his own hair, Roy's stupid obsession with it notwithstanding – and it must work, because Edward goes a bit pink. “I mean, I've made no secret of the fact that I find you incredibly aesthetically pleasing –”

“ _Mustang –”_

“And I'm sure you'll always look lovely, no matter what you decide to do with your hair.”

It's true, too. It is. Roy will love this man for the rest of his life, no matter what he looks like.

It's just... the hair is... really nice. Like. As in, liquid gold nice. As in, Roy spends way too much time running his fingers through it. Is it stupid that something like hair can make his chest ache?

“You're such a fucking flatterer.”

Edward doesn't necessarily say it like it's a bad thing, but he's not looking at him, like he's still a bit uncomfortable, and Roy carefully folds his hands on the table again. Maybe this way, Edward won't see the way they're shaking.

_Some day, Ed, you are going to see right through me, and then this will all be over._

“Of course I am. Shall I flatter my way to the kitchen and get you some more food?”

“That sentence didn't even make sense.”

“Much like many of the things that you say, then."

He's taking a risk, maybe, teasing like this, with whatever just happened. Too soon? But if he was being so _obvious_ earlier, he needs to get them back to steady ground, he needs to make this _normal_.

“You're an asshole, ya know.”

It's said with the tiniest hint of a smile, though, sudden and sharp, even if Edward's eyes are still a bit shuttered, and Roy feels some of the tension drain out of him. Not all of it, but some – and then Edward swallows and stands up, and Roy feels himself tense up again.

Shit. _Fuck_. He knows that look.

“Besides. I think the food can wait for now.”

Edward's grin is still there as he slides into his lap, easy as anything, knees on either side of him, and Roy's heart is hammering as carefully settles his hands on Edward's hips.

He'll give himself away. Some day, he'll bring all of this crashing down.

“Funny. I think that's one of the highest compliments you've ever given me.”

His voice sounds a lot hoarser than he would have liked, but then Edward grins again, quicksilver sharp he leans down to kiss him, and Roy's careful as he puts his hands on Edward's cheeks, that terrible, lost feeling inside him blooming up the way it always does.

Every time. Every time they do this, he realizes – all over again – that this isn't enough. That it will never _be_ enough.

But he'll never give it up, for as long as Edward wants him.

The thought only makes him hurt worse, and he kisses Edward back as he tries to let himself get lost in it.

\- - -

This time, they make it to Roy's bed. Last time, it had been the living room floor, and the time before that had been in the shower, and the time before that had been on the fucking stairs, with Roy's knees rugburned all to hell and Edward's back bruised from the way he'd ended up squirming against the stairs, with Roy's head buried between his legs. They've pretty much fucked on every surface in Roy's house, but it's been a good week since they made use of the bed.

And while Roy doesn't necessarily have a favourite place to do this – anywhere, any time, with Ed, is more than Roy's blood-soaked hands deserve – he does appreciate the tactical advantages of doing this on a soft mattress. Mainly that they have plenty of space, and that he might be able to get away with some almost-cuddling afterwards.

Right now, he's on his back, with Edward's thighs flush against his hips and with Roy buried so deep inside Edward it's a miracle he's still breathing at all, and Edward is a vision above him, his head thrown back and sweat dripping down his neck, following the blush that travels all the way from his face to his chest. Edward – miraculously – is a full-body blusher, and Roy feels heat scorch across his own skin as he ends up more or less just clinging to the jut of Edward's hipbones, using every bit of control he has to keep from desperately rocking up into Edward. He's achingly tight around him, and Roy can feel the slight shake running through Edward's body, and Roy is _not going to move_ until Edward says so.

Then, Edward bites his lip and shifts against him, and Roy just about bites through his own lip.

He wants this. He wants Edward, just like this, every day until Roy dies.

“Every... every fucking time.” Edward's voice is barely a rasp, and Roy can see how badly he's panting, trying to desperately to get it out. “How do you – how does this feel so good, every single fucking...”

He trails off, swallowing hard, not quite looking at him as his hands gently settle on Roy's chest, and Roy squeezes his eye shut, something sad and desperate burning up low inside his chest.

_I love you, I love you, you can't just say things like that to me._

“Probably because we're both veritable sex gods.”

If his voice is too tight, maybe he can blame it on the fact that he has his dick up Edward's ass. Edward, for his part, just stays where he is for a moment longer before he rasps out a laugh and leans in a bit closer. Roy's already half out of his mind by the time Edward's lips find his, and then Edward rolls his hips, just a bit, and Roy can't stop himself from groaning into Edward's mouth. It _does_ feel good, it _always_ feels good, it feels _so much better_ than just _good,_ but Roy isn't going to say that. He's going to just tighten his grip on his hips, holding him steady as Edward groans.

Sex. He can do this. He needs to focus on the physical part of this.

“Fucking _hell,_ Mustang...”

“Still want to set the pace, or want me to take over?”

The hoarseness in his voice would be embarrassing, were it anyone but Edward. As is, he merely sucks in a breath at the way Edward immediately groans and buries his face into his neck, like he's trying to hide there. Roy can feel how hot is face is, and he spares a moment to be grateful that – even after months of this – Edward _still_ gets flustered over the tiniest things, just like he did when they started doing this.

“You're so _embarrassing.”_

It's not an answer, and Roy can feel how hard Edward's heart is beating. Carefully, he slides his hands down Edward's back to cup his ass, letting his fingers just barely brush where they're joined together. It's enough to make his mouth go absolutely desert dry, and Edward jumps like Roy's hit him, before he groans and presses his face deeper against Roy's skin, fingers digging into his arms.

It's still not an answer. But Roy's just opened his mouth to ask again when Edward swallows against his shoulder, and then sits back up again. He's still pink all the way down to his chest, and his hair is a mess around his face – _still_ with the ponytail, he's always got that damn thing in, but the flyaway strands everywhere are _gorgeous_ – and his expression is a bit dazed in a way that makes Roy _ache_. It's enough to have him taking another chance, sucking in a breath and carefully rubbing a finger against the slick mess where Edward's clenching so tight around him, barely putting any pressure against what must be _incredibly_ sensitive skin, and the full-body shudder he gets as Edward groans, his eyes sliding shut, is enough to steal his breath. It's everything he can do to rasp name's out.

“Edward –”

“Go ahead. Do whatever you want.”

He looks utterly blissed out, balancing there, and his eyes are closed, breath coming too fast as he curls his hands against Roy's chest and rests them there, and Roy, well – Roy is only human.

A very weak human, at that. Particularly weak for this man. And someday that's going to ruin this.

"Then could I request a kiss, perhaps?”

Someday, of course, _could_ be today, if he doesn't keep his stupid mouth shut.

Because that had sounded... kind of terribly desperate.

And not fun, sexy times, _please-let-me-come_ desperate. That had sounded just as lost as he always feels, every time he gets Edward like this but can't love him the way he really _wants_ to.

And he needs to _not_ sound like that.

Because there's a weakness in his voice that he normally keeps hidden, and every muscle in his body tenses without his consent, that horrid fight-or-flight instinct kicking in in a way that hurts down to his bones, and his heart is _hammering_ as Edward opens his eyes. For a long moment, they just stare at each other – Edward is frowning, but Roy can't _read_ him, he has _no_ idea what's thinking – and then Edward frowns a bit harder and puts a hand on Roy chest, and Roy squeezes his eye shut.

_Please, please, don't call me out on this. Please just let this one slide. Please, Ed, just –_

“You and your fucking kissing fetish.”

– and, what?

Roy, hesitantly, dares to open his eye. Edward's wearing a little smirk, and there's no sign that he read anything into Roy's request, like he really does think it's just because Roy likes kissing so much.

Roy hasn't thrown up from relief in a long time, but he's going to, if he's not careful.

“You know me so well.”

Somehow, he drags it out of himself, along with a smile that he hopes looks amused. It's hard to tell, with the absolute sheer panic scratching at the back of his throat, trying to claw its way out. It must work, though, because Edward just rolls his eyes and leans down, and Roy is careful to not keep it _too_ gentle as he kisses him. Instead, he drags his teeth across Edward's lip just to hear him groan.

Sex. Focus on the physical.

So he drags his hands right back to where they were, cupping Edward's ass and just barely rubbing against the slick mess they've made back there, and the way Edward jolts and then whines under the touch, his nails digging in sharp to where he's got his fingers latched into Roy's skin, says that he's still just as ready as he was to go a couple of minutes ago, before Roy had started getting stupid.

Good. At the very least, Edward's night isn't going to be ruined by Roy's idiocy. That's one thing Roy can be grateful for.

He needs to be more careful, though. Their relationship is a house built of live flame and dynamite, and one wrong word from him is going to send everything burning to the ground.

Then, Edward shifts on top of him, squeezing tight in a way that punches most coherent thought right out of Roy's mind, and Roy grits his teeth together as he tugs Edward a little closer.

Not now. This is not the time to ruminate. He's got Edward in his arms, panting, desperate for Roy to touch him, and now is the time to take him apart, inch by inch, for as long as Edward will let him.

\- - -

Later – after the fire has burned down, and the only light in the room is from the streetlamp outside – Roy finds himself curled up beside Edward under the blankets. There's a good few inches of space between them, and Edward is absolutely out beside him, having just about shouted the room down when Roy had finally pressed up behind him and fucked him until Edward could barely hold himself up any more. Roy hadn't even bothered to try to convince Edward of a shower after that. He'd just cleaned them off as best they could – keeping his hands as gentle as he could get away with – and then he'd lied down beside Edward and pulled the blankets over them.

Because they do this, sometimes. They share a bed. And sometimes, on especially rare occasions, he even gets to sleep pressed right up against Edward, though Roy is careful to never do anything that might be construed as cuddling. Just because Edward sometimes spends the night – it's not like it _means_ anything.

The first time Edward had asked to stay, even, he'd looked Roy right in the eye and said, “And don't go reading into this, ya hear? I just don't feel like always walking home after we do this, okay, so –” at which point Roy had interrupted with a remarkably steady attempt at, “Are you saying I fuck you so well you can't walk right?” and then there had been extensive eye rolling from Edward, though he hadn't outright _denied_ it, and that had warmed Roy enough that he'd let a little honesty in. And when his soft, reluctant, “I get nightmares,” was met by Edward blinking at him, for a moment, and then muttering, “Yeah, well, that makes two of us,” well – at that point, Roy had stopped arguing.

And now here they are. Edward has become a semi-permanent fixture in his bed, even when they're not fucking, and Roy shouldn't have stopped arguing. He should have stopped this from happening.

Because it's just cruel. Sometimes he sleeps close enough that their arms brush, but – that's it.

And Roy should have never done this to himself. Hell, he should have never let any of this happen in the first place.

He should have said no, the minute Edward walked up to his door, months ago, and asked him if he wanted to have sex with him, because he was, _sick of not knowing what the big deal is, Mustang, and I trust you to at least not be an asshole about the whole thing,_ and – well. Roy should have said no. He should have gathered up what little remained of his self-preservation instincts and run away.

He hadn't. And now here they are.

Edward's naked and sound asleep in Roy's bed, and Roy's not even allowed to touch him.

The thought hurts something awful, and Roy carefully rolls away, putting his back to Edward.

It's going to be a long time before he falls asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

In the morning, Edward is still there.

Roy wakes up first, the morning light coming in through the window, to find Edward just barely awake beside him. His eyes are still hardly open, fuzzy with sleep, and he's barely pushed himself upright. He's also muttering to himself, barely audible, his fingers tugging weakly at his own hair, where – right. He fell asleep with his hair still tied up. And Roy's seen it happen enough times to know what a mess that always is in the morning. Normally, Edward's more awake when he tries to fix it, but this time he seems to be having more trouble with it; and Roy only manages to watch Edward yawn and poke fruitlessly at the back of his head for a second before he pushes himself up.

“May I?”

There's no help for how hard his heart is pounding. He shouldn't do this.

And he watches Edward hesitate for a moment, before he slowly nods, and Roy carefully slides up so that he's sitting behind Edward, trying to ignore how compelling the curve of his back is. The sheets have settled around his waist, and Roy watches goosebumps shiver across his shoulders as Roy presses up close behind him. It's as gratifying as it is terrifying, and Roy is so, _so_ careful as he gently works the soft strands free, until the elastic is lying on the bed, and his task is completed, and Roy really has no cause for the way his fingers are still threading through Edward's hair.

Edward, for his part, seems to have stopped breathing. And Roy has no idea what's happening, any more, but his heart is too full and he can't seem to pull away.

Instead, he gently spreads Edward's hair out over his shoulders and back, as careful as he can about it, laying it out in gorgeous waves against his skin, and then leans down to brush a kiss against the curve of Edward's shoulder, pressing his lips against his shoulder blade. Edward, if possible, goes even more motionless; and Roy feels his face flush as awareness comes back to him, sudden panic and embarrassment mixing a potent cocktail somewhere deep inside him. What the hell is he doing?

He needs to save this situation, right now.

“Have I ever told you that you're particularly gorgeous in the morning?”

It's not much of a save, but – well. Flirting. That, he can do. Flattery. If he's lucky, that's how Edward will see it. Roy's never-ending store of charm that he always whispers into Edward's skin.

If Edward knew just how much Roy meant every word, he'd be running for the hills by now.

“... You're a weirdo.”

He's not pulling away, though, and there's something that sounds like fond exasperation in his voice, and – just like that, they're on familiar ground. Roy doesn't bother to stop himself from smiling against Edward's shoulder, careful to keep his patch from snagging in the curtain that he's made of Edward's hair

Even with the panic in his gut, Edward is so fucking adorable it's unreal.

“Hmm. And for some reason you keep coming back.”

“Yeah, well. I never claimed to be okay in the head.”

It's almost a grumble, and Roy's just about to smile again when Edward just kind of... leans back against him.

Easy as breathing, as though they just _do_ this, he tucks his back against Roy's chest and rests his head against his shoulder, curling up against him like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Just like that, the entire universe spins right off its axis. Like the whole world comes crashing down.

Distantly, helplessly, Roy knows that he's frozen, his hands hovering useless in the air as Edward settles against him. Something inside him is shattering, fracturing into thousands of tiny pieces.

_What – what are you –_

“Oh, shut up. You're comfortable.”

It's definitely a grumble, this time, and Roy can practically hear Edward's face burning. It sends his own skin scorching red hot, and Roy – hesitantly, barely daring to move – carefully wraps his arms around him. He gets a soft sigh in return, and Edward leans closer against him, and Roy ends up just helplessly staring straight ahead, his arms around Edward, barely able to see the room in front of him, with his breath coming much too quickly.

_Don't do this to me. Don't –_

“Hmm. You always looked like you would make a nice pillow. Good to know that –”

“And you – you feel eminently pleasant, like this. Could I perhaps persuade you to lie down?”

Amazing. Sometimes, he amazes even himself, the sheer _bullshit_ that he can spin out, right when he needs it. His throat is closing up, and he's likely on the edge of a panic attack, and he's _still fucking running his mouth._ No wonder people don't like him. He's so goddamn smarmy it's incredible.

“Eh, can't see how it would hurt. If you're done playing with my hair, that is.”

“I believe I can take a brief hiatus.”

He still sounds, to his own ears, like he's going to shake apart, but Edward just snorts, and Roy takes that as a yes, and then he just kind of... draws Edward down with him. Pulls him close until Roy's on his side with Edward's back pressed against his chest, under the covers, and Roy has to close his eye and just hold on for dear life, because this is _everything he's been wanting for months._

The question is – why is Edward doing it?

Edward, though, seems to have lapsed into silence, as though getting his head back on the pillow might have reminded him that it's still early, and Roy dares to press just a bit closer as he buries his nose into Edward's hair. It gets a shiver out of Edward, and Roy swallows something that would probably be a terribly embarrassing whimper, a sense of loss rocketing through him even with Edward presses closer then he ever has been before. It's enough to make Roy's stomach turn over.

_Stay. Stay like this, with me, please._

“Neither of us have to go anywhere today. Feel free to just doze off again, if you would like.”

It's a far cry from, _Please move in and stay with me forever_ , but Roy's amazed that he even manages to temper it down that far. For a moment, Edward doesn't move, or say anything, and then he makes a noise that sounds like agreement, his voice gone sleepy again as he mumbles, “Kay,” and then squirms back closer, and Roy actually has to swallow tears as he tightens his arms and holds on.

God. He was wrong. This is worse than not cuddling at all.

There's nothing he can do about it now, though. He's just going to lay here, wide awake, with Edward drifting off in his arms, and memorize every moment, in case this never happens again.

\- - -

The next time Roy wakes up, Edward is gone, and Roy is all alone in his bed.

Judging by the absolute silence around him – the lack of distant cursing, or the clang of pots in the kitchen, or any of the things that Edward does to make himself so very present – Roy is alone in his whole house, too. The bed suddenly feels very cold, and he only stays sitting up for a second before he rolls back onto his stomach and buries his face in the pillow, nausea burning in his stomach.

He can't read into this. He's _not_ going to read into this.

Whatever happened, this morning – it doesn't mean _anything_. Edward probably doesn't even know what he's _doing,_ after all. He has no basis for comparison. He has literally no other relationships to compare to. He probably just doesn't _get_ that casual fucking normally doesn't involve sleepy snuggling and playing with each other's hair. Edward has always had a bit of hedonistic streak, underneath all his practicality, so if something feels good, then he's bound to do it, right? And pressing against another warm body _does_ feel good. It's as simple as that.

So, no. Roy is not going to read into this. He's a lonely old man who's got a beautiful blonde god in his bed, and he's not going to fuck this all up by grasping for straws where there aren't any.

But he might let himself lie here a bit longer. Just until his heart stops hurting so much.

\- - -

He doesn't see Edward for a week.

He doesn't show up on Roy's doorstep, or call him, or show up in Roy's office. Roy ends up burying himself in his work, and trying to ignore the unwarranted sting. He has no claim to Edward's time or affections. And he certainly has no right to be feeling bereft after there's no whisper of Edward for days.

Still. He can't help it.

And Hawkeye, bless her loyal heart, doesn't say a word, though he knows she knows something is wrong. She just stays by his side, steady as ever, casually steering him in the direction of whatever paperwork needs getting done, and standing supportive by his side on the two evenings when Roy needs to schmooze with some of the higher-ups, in an attempt to get some of his political footing back. It's about the only time he's _not_ thinking about Edward – when he's under the scrutiny of people who would like to see him shipped back to his own personal frozen hell, because Roy _cannot_ afford distractions right then – but the tension of it all leaves him more exhausted than ever, and he's aching from his feet to his heart to his temples as he finally stumbles home Friday evening.

Everything hurts, all the way through his entire body. And he's just so tired. Thank _fuck_ there's a bottle of brandy and a warm fireplace waiting for him. It's just starting to rain by the time he makes it home, and he locks the door behind him and tries to ignore how terribly quiet the house is.

Last Friday, Edward had been here, larger than life and warming the house from the inside out.

Roy's not going to think about that. The brandy will help, at least.

He's barely been in the door ten minutes, though – he's not even out of his uniform – when there's a knock. It makes him freeze, his gaze darting to the door, and then he closes his eye and swallows down the desperate, aching surge of hope. He's being stupid. Edward probably has better things to do.

And, gods, Roy doesn't want to be around other than Edward right now. Whoever is at the door had better leave quickly.

It is Edward, though, when Roy opens the door. Standing on his front porch, soaked right through, his hair hanging damp and miserable over his shoulders, and Roy opens his mouth, and then shuts it again. There's an almost defensive curl to Edward's shoulders, and he's not looking at Roy, and Roy's legs aren't quite steady as he immediately steps aside, closing the door behind Edward. He's dripping water all over the carpet, and Roy reaches out to take his jacket before he thinks better of it, his hands dropping to his sides as silence spreads between them. It's not exactly comfortable – Roy can just about hear his heart beating in his ears – but it's Edward who finally clears his throat.

“You up to anything tonight?”

His voice doesn't sound quite right, and when Roy shakes his head, Edward swallows.

“Good.”

That's it. No explanation. He's not moving, either, still just standing there, looking absolutely miserable. He looks like one wrong word – one false move from Roy – could snap him in half.

And he sounds, too, like he's going for sulky, or impetuous, but he's just ended up sounding... lost.

And Roy might not know why, but it's enough to have him taking a step forward. Enough to get his hands on Edward's arms, tugging slightly at his soaked jacket. He's taking a risk – he _knows_ he is – and when Edward goes still, his posture pulling even tighter, Roy sucks in a breath – but then Edward swallows and raises his arms to help as Roy carefully slides his coat off him, until it's hanging behind him and Edward's standing there glaring at the ground; and the only thing Roy can possibly do is reach out and touch him.

So he does. He raises a hand and brushes Edward's hair out of his face.

He can always play it off as flirting, if he has to.

And when he gets a slight blush across Edward's cheeks but Edward doesn't step away, Roy brushes his hair a bit further out of his eyes, deliberately pitching his voice as soft as he can. If Edward's this wound-up, then Roy's not going to be the one to spook him.

“You look like you've had a shit day.”

Distantly, it comes to him how easy it is for him to focus his attention on Edward instead of himself. Roy had been exhausted, and miserable, but now he's okay. He's got Edward to take care of.

He's not sure what that says about his own psyche or self-worth, but he doesn't really care.

“Haven't slept much.”

It's barely a murmur, like Edward's embarrassed to say it out loud, and Roy's just opened his mouth when Edward shifts in place like he wants the floor to swallow him. He looks like he wants to say something, but can't quite bring himself to, and maybe Roy needs to take another chance, here.

“Did you want to stay the night?”

It's crossing a line, probably. Roy knows that, even if Edward might not. By conventional wisdom, at least, casual sex isn't exactly casual sex if the sex part isn't involved.

“I... I think I'm too tired for –”

“Not for that.” His mouth is dry, and his heart is racing, because he _really_ needs to cut off Edward's stuttered explanation before he gets any further with it. “I, um. I - still need to take a shower, though. Would you like to join me before you sleep?” It's a dangerous offer, probably, and when Edward just keeps staring at the floor, the sudden self-doubt has Roy's face heating, an uncomfortable prickle that spreads across his cheek and back behind his ears. “I mean, if you would just like one of your own, you can of course –”

“Just a shower?”

He sounds a bit doubtful, and Roy – carefully – doesn't let it show that that stings. Maybe Edward _does_ know that they're crossing a line. He has nothing to compare to, but maybe he still knows.

“I have the purest of intentions, I swear. Nothing but the most innocent of –”

“You really don't ever stop running your mouth, do you?”

“I've been told it's one of my more appealing character traits.”

He can't help the way his lips curve, even though the shit coming out of his mouth is stupid, because some of the tension looks like it's bled out of Edward. At the very least, he looks less ready to bolt than he had when he walked in the door. And when his mouth actually twitches, Roy has to take a breath.

_Don't do this to me. Don't –_

“Fine. Shower it is.” He's still just barely smiling, small and uncertain, and Roy can't stop staring, he _knows_ that he's staring, he needs to _stop_ – “If you hurry up, I'll even let you wash my hair.”

And, just like that, Roy's world spins off its axis again.

He's gone suddenly shaky everywhere, like his knees don't want to hold him up. And he's not sure what his face is doing, but it probably looks incredulous, because Edward rolls his eyes.

"Oh, come on, I'm not _stupid_ , Mustang. And you're not exactly the most subtle person ever.”

“I –”

“Now you coming with me, or what?”

It's a question, but he doesn't actually wait for an answer. He's already heading for the stairs.

Roy watches him, takes a deep breath, and then follows.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for discussion of their physical scars, and some insecurity from both of them about that. (But this is heavy on the comfort part of h/c, I swear.)

Twenty minutes later, and Roy is in heaven.

They'd opted for a bath over a shower. Edward is curled up in his arms, and Roy's spent at least ten minutes carefully working the shampoo through Edward's hair, not even bothering to try to hide the fact that he's pretty much just playing with it at this point. Edward, at least, doesn't seem to care.

Of course, that could probably be because he's practically asleep in Roy's arms. And while there's still a gut-deep twinge of interest at having him like this, despite how exhausted they both are – because Roy will literally need to be dead before he's not going to want Edward, and having him soaking wet and naked in his arms is enough to make his heart hammer – it's still soft and muted under the almost nauseating wave of protectiveness that's working its way through Roy's gut.

When was the last time Edward really slept?

“I can hear you thinking too hard.”

It's practically slurred, with how close to sleep Edward is, his body gone pretty much ragdoll limp in Roy's arms. It's like the minute he stepped through Roy's door he just stopped fighting it.

Roy tightens his arms around him, that protectiveness lancing even deeper inside him.

He wants this. He wants Edward to feel safe around him.

“Yeah, well. Come on, then, darling. Let's get the soap all washed out so you can sleep.”

He carefully tugs his fingers through Edward's hair, as he says it, feeling the damp strands slide against his skin as easy as breathing, and it takes him a moment to realize that Edward's tensed up again. It takes him even longer to realize why. And then Roy closes his eye, shame washing through him.

_Darling._

Fuck.

He's _such_ an idiot.

And now Edward's going to be uncomfortable, he was _so_ close to falling asleep, and now – and, fuck, Roy just keeps _doing_ these things, little things that even Edward is going to realize are messed up, and Roy needs to _stop_ –

“How about you? You looked like you've had a shit day, too.”

– and, what?

Edward's relaxed back against him, and his fingers are rubbing gentle circles against Roy's knee, underneath the water. There's no hint of accusation in his voice, or discomfort, or unease.

He just sounds like he's really asking. Like he really cares. Like Roy hasn't scared him off.

And Roy just barely stops himself from trying to smother himself into the safety of Edward's hair.

_Not fair. Not fair, not fair, this isn't fair._

“Long week.”

It's all he manages. Thankfully, it seems to be all Edward expects – hell, maybe he even hears that Roy doesn't want to talk about, maybe he hears the reluctance in Roy's voice – because he just sighs and curls up closer against him, as naturally as though they've done this a dozen times before.

Roy is possibly going to break his own heart, right here and now, sitting here in this stupid bathtub.

“Well, let's get the shampoo out, then, sleepyhead. Water's not gonna stay warm forever.”

His fingers are still pressing gentle circles against Roy's skin, and Roy can't even manage a nod. He can't do anything but hold on, giving himself a few desperate moments before he reaches for Edward's hair again, something inside him cracking further when Edward sighs into the touch. It's a little too much to cope with, and Roy has the distinct realization that he's in completely over his head, even more than he'd already thought he was, which –

Yeah. Roy is definitely going to break his own heart before this is all over.

\- - -

A half hour later, and Edward is passed out sound asleep in Roy's bed.

He's wearing one of Roy's housecoats, and he's curled up in a ball with his head on Roy's pillow.

Roy stares at him for a moment before he turns and walks out of the room.

Brandy. Brandy, and paperwork. Right now, he can't deal with the man curled up asleep in his bed.

\- - -

Roy's still sitting at his sitting room desk by the time the clock hits 2 am.

The mug beside him is mostly empty – he'd ended up going for tea, instead, with the sudden fear of saying something he shouldn't around Edward – and he's starting to think he should have maybe opted for a warmer housecoat, too, because the fire's burning down and he doesn't have the energy to get up and deal with it. A snap of his fingers, that's all it would take, and he _still_ doesn't have it in him to deal with it.

That's pretty sad.

Hawkeye is going to be proud of him, at least. Roy's gotten through more paperwork in the last four hours than he has in the last four days. It's not a pleasant distraction, but at least it's a distraction.

Of course, it's not exactly working all that well. The house is silent around him, but he knows that Edward is here, sound asleep in Roy's bed, and that changes everything. It's like there's a constant awareness prickling under his skin. The knowledge that the tangible proof of the lines that they're crossing is asleep just upstairs.

That's probably just Roy, though. Edward's barely blinked at any of it, over the last week.

Roy's the one making something out of nothing. Nothing's changed. He needs to remember that.

“You look all broody.”

Roy doesn't jump, but it's a close thing.

When he looks up, Edward is standing in the doorway. He's rubbing his eyes, and his hair is falling over his shoulders, and Roy's housecoat is hanging loose and too-large around his shoulders.

He's so cute it should be illegal, and Roy has the distinct sensation of wanting to curl up in a ball and cry.

“Is this really how you spend your Friday nights when I'm not around?” It's still a bit sleep-slurred, like Edward's still trying to get his brain to wake up, and he's frowning and still rubbing his eyes as he moves closer, with Roy's housecoat trailing over the floor – and then he pauses, and his expression tightens, like he's just thought of something unpleasant. “I... didn't chase ya out of your own bed, did I?”

He sounds suddenly horrified at the idea, his eyes a bit wider than they were a second ago.

Roy feels his heart squeeze.

“'Cause if I did –”

“Edward –”

“You can tell me to fuck off, ya know, you don't _have_ to let me stay here –”

“I like it when you're here.”

It's out before he can stop it. Out on the realization of just how uncomfortable Edward looks, as though he actually thinks he's being an imposition. It's out, and now Roy has no way to take it back.

And Edward just blinks at him. Still bleary-eyed, but looking a bit more dangerously awake, now.

Roy carefully clears his throat and looks down at his papers, though he doesn't remember what he was working on. He just needs a second. He needs to pull it together, and say something flirty, and –

“Hey, um – do you... do you still keep that on, when you're here just by yourself?”

The words don't make sense, with the gentle press of Edward's fingers on the back of his hand.

Then, they do, and Roy look up again. Edward's looking right at him, and it's not hard to tell what he means, even if he's not touching it. His fingers are on Roy's hand, and nowhere near his face.

Like he's waiting for permission to touch, if Roy wants to give it to him.

Roy just stares at him, his lungs devoid of air. He's never taken it off. Not during sex, not earlier, when they were in the bathtub. Not on the many nights that they've spent sprawled out in Roy's bed together.

Edward's never asked, and Roy's never brought it up. And now his heart is _hammering._

As though he hears it, Edward swallows, something that looks like guilt flashing across his face. His fingers slide away from the back of Roy's hand, and Roy could cry at the loss of touch.

“I... sorry, I shouldn't have –”

“Edward...”

“I just – I've been wanting to ask, just 'cause... I mean, hell, this is _your_ house, Mustang, and I'm always here getting in your goddamn space, and I'd feel really shitty if I was the reason that –”

“It isn't particularly pretty.”

His heart is still beating far too quickly, and he's not getting enough air into his lungs.

Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe he's not ready for this.

Of everyone in the world, though, who's better going to understand than Edward?

“Yeah, well. You've seen every inch of me. Ain't particularly pretty, either.”

Edward's eyes are fixed on the floor, now, and his voice is laced has gone kind of achingly soft.

Roy's pulse is thundering even worse.

Oh, _Ed._

“That's _not_ –”

“Besides. You're always gonna be stupid handsome, you jerk, with or without –”

“And you are stunning, Edward. Always. Please don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”

_Including yourself._

That's the hardest part, maybe. Maybe they're both their own worst enemies, when it comes to this.

But he doesn't care much about himself, suddenly, because Edward has gone very wide-eyed, like that's the last thing he was expecting Roy to say. Roy, apparently, has been shit at getting this point across, if Edward doesn't already know it. He'll just have to tell him more often, then.

And, somehow, it's the look on Edward's face that gets Roy's hands up to his face.

Of course Edward understands. Why was Roy even worried in the first place?

It's still not easy to slide the fabric off. His fingers hesitate, for a moment. Then, he tugs it off his face and sits it down on the desk beside him. Edward's still just staring at him, and Roy swallows.

 _Come on. Don't leave me like this_. _Don't –_

“So, what's allowed, then? You okay with me touching ya, when you're like this, or do ya want more space? Cause –”

“You are remarkable, do you know that?”

His voice comes out incredibly steady, all things considered. And it's true. Not a word about how he looks. Just concern for his comfort. No wonder Roy is so _absolutely fucking gone_ over this man.

“Yeah, well – and you – you're a goddamn flatterer, so –”

Roy cuts him off with a hand on Edward's, because Edward has gone tomato coloured, but... not in a fun way, maybe. In an incredibly-uncomfortable-with-praise kind of way. And Roy just can't have that. Maybe there's a limit to how much praise he can get away with, before Edward starts getting uneasy.

“You can touch as much or as little as you want, Edward. As long as you're not disconcerted –”

“It's proof that you're alive, ya dumbass. Of course it doesn't weird me out.”

His voice is sullen, almost, low and uneasy, and – just like that, Roy can feel his heart begin to slam.

Because there's... something else in Edward's voice, too. Something that sounds almost hurt, despite the insults, despite the way he's so obviously trying to make it sound casual. His lips are suddenly pressed into such a thin line it looks a bit painful, and Roy watches his hands curl into fists.

It has him blinking, suddenly feeling helpless. What is going on here?

“Edward...”

“It just... hits me, sometimes, how close we've both come to...”

He trails off, like he can't quite say it, but Roy hears it anyway.

They should be dead. With everything that they've been through, they should both be dead.

And now Edward is standing in front of him shaking, like maybe he's not the only one who's always trying to not think about it, and Roy can't do anything but hold out his hands, his heart hammering all over again as Edward just lets Roy draw him into his lap without a word. He fits perfectly against him, as though they really have done this so many times before, and Roy closes his eye as he tugs Edward as close as he can get him, even as he feels Edward swallow.

“... Sorry. I just –”

“You don't have to –”

“I've just – all those years, I... I didn't know whether you – you'd made it, or... not, and –”

He sounds like he's freaking himself out just saying it, and Roy's heart is aching as he kisses him. He doesn't mean to do it. It just kind of happens. And he keeps it gentle, as gentle as he can, before he pulls back.

And when Edward just blinks at him, mouth dropping open, Roy can feel his face heat, sudden embarrassment flashing through him, flushing hot all the way down his neck and back behind his ears - but then Edward's lips are on his, again. Soft and gentle as his hand comes to rest on Roy's bare cheek, his fingers resting near the socket, just barely gliding against skin that Roy knows is a scarred and broken mess. 

Roy's going to vibrate right off the chair. That, or he's going to start crying.

Then, Edward pauses, drawing back to look at him, and Roy wants to drag him right back.

“I... sorry, you must be exhausted, I shouldn't have –”

“I'm really not.”

He sounds choked. Like the tears behind his eye are trying to make it out.

And Edward just stares at him before he swallows, looking as overwhelmed as Roy feels, before colour creeps down his face and along his neck, but it looks more like embarrassment than anything else.

“Well... why – why don't you take me to bed, then?”

It's so shaky it sounds like he barely gets it out, and – Roy shouldn't do this. Whatever this is, it's a bad idea. He's too emotionally raw for this, and it's like they moved right passing _crossing a line_ and skipped straight to _burning it the fuck down_ instead. And Roy still doesn't know what the means to Edward – Roy doesn't know if he is the only one falling apart here – and he _shouldn't_ do this.

He doesn't care.

He just slides his arms around Edward, as carefully as he can, and gets to his feet, holding Edward against his chest. He's expecting a yelp, or at least a token protest – Edward _always_ pretends to hate it when Roy carries him, no matter how hot and bothered it gets them both – but this time Edward just buries his face into Roy's neck and wraps his legs and arms around him, holding on as tight as he can.

It doesn't help with the _emotionally raw_ bit. It _really_ doesn't. But Roy doesn't care.

It's three in the morning, and he's got Edward clinging to him like he never wants to let go, and nothing matters more than that, so Roy just tightens his grip around Edward and starts walking.

He'll figure everything out later. Right now, nothing matters more than the man in his arms.

\- - -

By four am, Edward is asleep again, curled up naked in Roy's arms.

Roy is still awake and staring into the darkness. It feels like his heart's been gouged out of his chest.

He'd lied Edward out on the sheets, and kissed every inch of his skin, for as long as Edward would let him get away with, until Edward had finally started pleading, tugging at his hair and grabbing at his shoulders and rocking up into his touch like he couldn't get close enough, and Roy had finally fucked him.

He'd left his stupid eyepatch lying in the sitting room, and he'd lied Edward out on his back and slid between his legs and fucked him as slowly and carefully as he could get away with, his heart squeezing tight the entire time, watching Edward slowly come apart, his expression just barely visible in the dim light from the streetlamp outside as he'd clung to Roy and let himself shatter.

Roy hadn't dared to turn on the light. Not with how dangerous the situation already was.

_All those years, I didn't know whether you'd made it, or not._

The words are still ringing in his ears, and Roy squeezes his eye shut and holds Edward closer. Edward had seemed utterly out of it after, clinging to him like he couldn't let go, holding on tight in the darkness, wrapped up around him underneath the sheets, and Roy _knows_ that they've crossed some kind of line, here.

... Haven't they?

Can Roy actually dare to hope, though? Could Edward have come into this under false pretenses, too, just like Roy had? Is Roy maybe not the only one who spent their time apart feeling gutted?

He'd watched Edward walk away twice. Not just once, but twice.

He'll never forget what that felt like, especially that second time. That second time, when Roy had gotten his miracle, only to lose Edward all over again. He'll never forget it. Never, never, never.

And maybe he's being a coward. Maybe Edward's just as lost as Roy, as impossible as the idea is.

Whatever the case, he's not sure he can keep this up anymore. He's breaking his own heart.

He'll talk to Edward in the morning. There's nothing he can do right now, but he'll talk to Edward in the morning.

Roy's always been a coward, right when it's really counted. Maybe it's time for him to finally stop running away.


	4. Chapter 4

Roy doesn't say a word.

When morning comes, he doesn't say a word.

Because Edward is gone. He hadn't even left a note. Not that he normally _does_ , but -

But.

It would have meant... something, maybe, if he had.

And Roy pretty much decides, right then and there, standing in the middle of his empty kitchen with a hand over his face and the house silent around him, that he can't keep doing this. He needs to end this.

\- - -

He doesn't end it.

Because Edward disappears for the week, just like the week before, and then he shows up in Roy's front foyer the very next Friday, like nothing's changed, and Roy just steps aside and lets him in.

Weak. He's so weak to this man. As if he thought he could end this.

“Shit, Mustang. I think you might look even worse than last week.”

Edward's face is furrowing into a frown, as he hangs his coat up behind him, and Roy – somehow – manages to dredge up a smile. Hopefully it doesn't look too ghastly. It feels pretty awful on his face.

“I've been told that the sleep-deprived look is all the rage these days.”

The words come out a bit wooden, and his tongue feels like cotton in his mouth.

If Edward suggests that they head for the bedroom, Roy's not sure that he can. But he doesn't want Edward to _leave_.

Edward doesn't, though. He just stands there, frowning at him. There's no trace of the vulnerable wreck he was the weekend before, which pretty much cements the fact that Roy's an idiot for hoping. Then, something seems to soften across Edward's face, his scowl fading just a little bit.

“Alright, ya know what? Change of plans. I was gonna ask you if you wanted to get drunk and fuck me on the stairs again –”

– and, god, despite everything, despite how miserable Roy is, that _still_ makes his body burn –

“– but you look like you're gonna pass out, so. Favourite restaurant in the city? I'll go get whatever you want, and then how about we just... I dunno, sit around and give each other shit, or something?”

He's not looking at him, by the time he's finished, like he's embarrassed by the offer, his skin flushing all the way back behind his ears, and Roy can't do anything but stand there and stare at him.

_I can't do this anymore. I can't fucking do this._

“You don't need to get me food. I can have it delivered.”

It's true. His favourite restaurant delivers.

It's also utterly and completely not the response he should be giving.

“Oh, well. Um – in that case, then –”

“Thank you, though.”

He's digging his own grave. That's what he's doing here. He can't stand how soft his own voice is. And Edward just goes red and shrugs, but there's an uncertainty to it that makes Roy's chest hurt.

He can't read him. That's the problem. He has no idea how much of this is in his own head.

“Eh, don't mention it. Did you wanna – I dunno, want some company, anyway? Or do ya want me to bugger off? If ya just wanna rest, or sit around working, or do whatever other boring shit ya do –”

“Edward –”

“I can always just fuck off and amuse myself somewhere else, if that's –”

“I have a project, actually, that I've been working on. I was wondering if you would take a look.”

That's not quite true. He'd been wondering more if he dared to share that much of himself.

Sure enough, Edward's frowning at him, again, like he can't quite process what he's hearing.

“I would... need to know your code, then.”

“Indeed you would.”

He sounds hoarse to his own ears, suddenly. Maybe this was a bad idea.

He might as well be screaming _I trust you implicitly, you fucking idiot_ at the top of his lungs.

And Edward just... blinks at him. Unmoving. It's like Roy can feel the seconds scratch by.

Then, Edward swallows, and the smile he pastes on looks so wobbly it's a wonder he manages at all.

“Alright, then, mister smarty pants. Let's see what great ideas you've been thinking up.”

He sounds rough and shaky, like there's something wrong with his voice, and Roy's not exactly sure what's happening, anymore, but he feels like he's made some kind of terrible, horrible mistake.

It's too late now, though, so he just steps aside and follows Edward into the sitting room.

\- - -

It only takes him about an hour to conclude that, yes, he has made a terrible mistake.

Because Edward is sitting at his desk, reading his notes, but he's silent, and it's not a comfortable silence, and Roy has ended up sitting on the couch, pretending to read a book, and – they've never been _awkward_ like this, this gut-churning nauseating _tension_ , with them sitting on other sides of the room, and Edward chewing on his pencil and not looking at him; and Roy had wanted to _discuss_ his work, he'd wanted to go over it _together_ , but he's not sure if Edward wants to be near him, and –

“Hey, um, I swear I'm not just using you for your booze, but –”

“Scotch or brandy?”

If his voice is too high, maybe Edward will be kind and pretend he doesn't notice.

And when Edward does, indeed, just shrug, Roy licks his lips and gets to his feet.

He's definitely lost the thread of what's happening, here. He is so utterly and completely lost.

\- - -

The alcohol helps. That much, at least he knows.

Because an hour later finds them both on the couch, with Roy resting against a pile of pillows and Edward curled up against his chest. He's got his arms around Edward, and Edward had some of his notes resting against his knees, and Roy doesn't know what's happening, anymore, but he doesn't care.

Edward feels perfect. That's all he needs to know.

“Dumbass.” It sounds almost affectionate, with how soft Edward's voice is, as his fingers glide across the paper in front of him. “I can't believe you made your code out of cat breeds.”

“At least I had extensive variety.”

He's got his face buried against the side of Edward's neck. He never wants to move again.

And when he feels a little laugh rattle through Edward, it's like he can feel himself fall even harder.

Yeah. He's never ending this. He'll take whatever he can get.

“You still thinking about cutting this off?”

It's a bad deflection, but it's all he has, if he wants to stop his thoughts from spiraling. And when he tugs gently on Edward's hair, Edward's silent for a moment, before he lets Roy's papers settle back against his knees.

“Dunno. Would you miss it?”

There's something a bit off in his voice, suddenly, even through the tipsy haze. Roy pauses, his fingers stilling on Edward's hair, but he's too drunk to decode Edward's tone. There's only one answer, anyway, regardless. Roy's opinion doesn't matter. Not for something like this.

“It's your hair, Edward. You do whatever you want with it, alright? Don't worry about me.”

He can hear the affection in his voice, but he can't stop it. Maybe Edward will be too drunk to notice. Roy certainly is. He's floating, and he's warm, and Edward feels perfect. Can this never end?

“You're something else, you know.”

It's barely a rasp, low and hardly audible, and Roy still can't quite make sense of the tone of Edward's voice. He can't hear what he means. Maybe that's just the brandy. It's probably the brandy.

He doesn't quite manage to say anything, though. He just sits there, sliding his fingers through Edward's hair. He probably should say something, but he might ruin it. He should just stay silent.

It's Edward who finally breaks the silence, carefully leaning back closer against him.

Even through the haze, Roy feels it like a punch to the gut, and he has to swallow a whimper.

Fuck. _Fuck._

“Not what I was expecting, either. Pretty sure it's your favourite part of me.”

It takes him a second, to realize what Edward means. Then, Roy feels his teeth grind.

His hair. He's still talking about his goddamn hair. How could that be Roy's favourite part?

Edward's silent now, though. Not saying another word. Then, he swallows, the sound overly loud in the quiet room, and Roy has the distinct sensation that something important has happened, but that he's missed it.

“Come on, then, ya drunkard. Let's get you to bed –”

“I like you for much more than just your hair, Edward.”

It should be funny. It should be teasing. He _means_ it to be teasing.

It doesn't sound that way, at all. It sounds... lost. Even through the haze, Roy sounds lost.

Somehow, that's what does it. Roy squeezes his eye shut and buries himself even closer.

_I think we need to stop this._

Edward doesn't say anything in response, and it takes Roy a second to realize that he'd only thought it. He hadn't actually said it. Of course he hadn't said it. How could he bring himself to end this?

Then, Edward turns in his arms and leans in close, resting a hand on his cheek as he kisses him.

It's so gentle Roy can barely feel it at all.

When he opens his eye again, Edward's just staring at him, his cheeks flushed, his eyes dark, and his expression something that Roy has no hope of figuring out; and then he leans back and takes Roy's hands, tugging him like he expects him to stand up, but Roy's having trouble moving at all.

His legs feel like lead, and his heart is beating very hard, and there's not enough air in the room. He can feel the heat crawling across his face, and he knows that he's staring, but he can't stop himself.

What just happened?

“Come on, then, dumbass. Time to sleep.”

And... it's the fondness, that does it. Roy can hear it, clear as anything, in Edward's voice.

It steals away his own voice, and nothing quite feels real as he lets Edward tug to his feet.

Even the walk all the way up the stairs doesn't register all that much. Roy feels like he's floating.

And when Edward nudges him down into his bed and curls up around him, holding on tight to Roy and pulling the blankets up around both of them, it's the single best thing Roy has ever felt.

\- - -

When Roy wakes up, he's alone under the blankets, but the house smells like waffles.

For a long moment, he stays where he is. Then, he slides his feet over the side of the bed, his heart doing some terrible fluttering thing as he reaches for the water and pills that are waiting for him on the bedside table. It makes his face flush, too, a sharp wave of embarrassment rocking through him, because – for fuck's _sake_ , he goes and gets hammered and _passes out_ on Edward – when surely Edward had _wanted_ to come over and strip Roy naked, instead of taking care of his drunk ass all night – and Edward _still_ makes him breakfast and makes sure he wakes up to water and medication.

It's a little too much to deal with. Whoever gets to keep Edward – whoever gets him for _real_ , whoever gets to call him their own, whoever gets Edward's eternal kindness directed at them – is going to the luckiest fucker alive.

The thought sours some of the warmth at Edward's concern for him, and Roy's chest is tight as he wraps his housecoat tighter around himself and heads down the hall, stopping just long enough to use the washroom and brush his teeth. He manages to avoid looking at himself in the mirror – he knows what he looks like; he doesn't need to see it again – and then he heads down the stairs. By the time he reaches the kitchen, Edward's got the table set, and there's a mountain of waffles there.

There's only one plate, though. And Edward's fully dressed, even in his jacket. He looks up as Roy enters the room, and Roy pauses, sudden uncertainty dragging its nails across every inch of his skin.

Edward looks like shit. He looks like he didn't sleep at all, his eyes red and his hair a tangled mess.

Then, he tries to smile, but it wavers and breaks on the way out.

“Hey, sleepy. Sorry, I can't actually stay – I got some shit I gotta do – but I wanted to just... hang around, until ya got up.” That weak little smile is still there, and Roy feels frozen where he is. “I – I'm probably gonna be pretty busy the next few weeks, but I'll try to stop by again after that, okay?”

Edward's barely looking at him now, and Roy opens his mouth, and then closes it again.

What is going on?

There's only one answer, though. Edward doesn't owe him apologies. Not for this. Roy's shit is his own to deal with, and they came both into this with the same agreement. Edward doesn't need to feel bad about anything.

And as much as it's going to gut Roy to say this, he has to do it.

“Of course, Edward. And there's no need for apologies. We came into this with the same understanding, after all, you don't need to –”

Then he stops. Because Edward actually flinches. Visibly, before he sucks in a breath and looks down. He looks like Roy's hit him, almost, and Roy suddenly feels like the lowest scum in the universe.

Was that – not the right thing to say? Did he... shouldn't that be what Edward _wanted_ to hear?

“Yeah, yeah – 'course, I... I dunno what I was thinking. En-enjoy the waffles, alright? I'll... see ya around.”

And – that's it, apparently. Because Edward just stares at him for a moment longer before he turns and walks out, taking all the warmth in the room with him; and Roy stands where he is until he hears the front door shut, and then he finds himself leaning back against the wall. His knees aren't steady, and he feels a bit ill, a chill falling across the kitchen as he wraps his arms around himself.

Whatever just happened, he had this horrible feeling that he just broke something without even knowing it was breakable in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Poor BBs. I shall hopefully have the last bit up within the next week.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone for all the incredibly kind feedback while I've been writing this. Ya'll are seriously the best.

Roy’s not sure what he was expecting. Probably for Edward to disappear for another few weeks, just like he said he would.

Instead, two days later Hawkeye steps into his office, the expression on her face nearly as inscrutable as ever. There’s just the tiniest press to her lips, though, as Roy looks up from the papers in front of him.

“Sir. Edward’s here. Shall I –”

“By all means.”

It’s calm to his own ears, but this is Riza, who can always see through him no matter how hard he tries. And Roy doesn’t miss the way his skin has gone warm, nervousness painting heat across his face, with the awareness of who’s standing outside that door. He hasn’t said anything to Riza about what’s been going on, but some part of him almost expects her to know, anyway.

If she does, she doesn’t say a word. She just watches him for a moment and then nods, stepping back out into the hallway. Roy can hear her calm voice mingled with a little snorting sound from Edward, and he has to close his eye, affection burning a terrible hole inside his chest.

He’d be dead, if not for the two people standing in that hallway. He knows he would.

Why did he ever think he could survive something _casual_ with Edward?

Then, the door snaps shut, and Roy looks up, only to have his voice die in his throat.

It’s not the same jacket. That much is obvious, after a momentary glance. But it _is_ similar, dark red where he’s used to seeing brown, and suddenly the past and present seem to be merging into one big mess, all mixed together as Edward hesitantly eyes him from over the table, and then sits down across from him, his hair falling golden over the red material. The sudden nostalgia of it is twisting right through him, but it’s the crushing present that’s even worse, with this beautiful human hurricane sitting across from him and looking more unsure than Roy’s seen him in a long time.

Roy’s heart in his throat. He’s so, so fucking in love, and it’s horrible.

“New jacket?”

“I missed the old one.”

It sounds deceptively soft. Edward’s still not meeting his gaze, and Roy goes to fold his hands on the table, and then makes himself stop. He doesn’t need that wall between them. Not with Edward. This isn’t some power play, or some manipulation. This is just Edward looking quietly miserable.

And the thing is – Roy doesn’t know _why_. The past two weeks have been a mess, and he doesn’t know what anything means any more. Half the time he thinks Edward wants something more, and then the other half he thinks he’s just imagining it, and when did this become so _difficult?_

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Indeed?”

His mouth is so dry it’s a wonder he gets it out at all, and Edward’s response is to frown a bit harder. Roy wants to reach across the table and use his fingers to smooth the lines from his face.

“Yeah. Not here, though. Can you – come over, tonight, maybe? I… Al’s away until tomorrow, and I thought we could… there’s this river, near our place, where I like to sit sometimes, and…”

He trails off, which is a very, very bad thing, because it leaves the room in silence.

Roy’s voice seems to have gotten lost, swallowed up by the hammering of his heart.

And it’s Edward who finally moves first, his face colouring as he goes to stand up.

“Actually, you know what, never mind, that was a stupid idea, I shouldn’t have –”

“I’d be delighted.”

It’s something close to a croak. He’s not sure what his face is doing, but it probably isn’t good. And when Edward stares at him for a moment and then swallows, Roy’s face gets even hotter.

He’s _not_ imagining all of this. He _can’t_ be. This _can’t_ all be in his head. Right?

“Alright, then. Um, six? My place? You know where I live, right, it’s –” Roy’s already nodding, moving on autopilot, and he watches Edward swallow again. “I – right. See you then, I guess.”

He sounds like he wants the floor to open up and swallow him – he sounds shaken right through – and then he’s gone, spinning on his heel and making it out of the room in record time. He seems to take all the air in the room with him, the way he always does, and Roy’s still sitting there and gaping at the door when the clock on the wall finally chimes. Then, he slowly leans back in his chair as he puts his hands over his face, because his heart is _hammering_ inside his chest.

This is not a date. He’s a thirty-seven-year-old colonel, and Edward Elric did not just ask him on a date.

Funny, though. Somehow, that’s exactly what it feels like.

\- - -

By the time it’s almost evening, Roy’s pretty much worn a hole through his bedroom floor.

He’s changed outfits – _three times,_ for fuck’s sake, what is _wrong_ with him? – and he’s so nervous he’s about ready to trip over his own feet. Thank fuck there’s no one around to see him.

And the thing is – he _knows_ better than this.

Because hope can be a funny thing. Sometimes it gets you through, and sometimes it gets you hurt. And where Edward is concerned, the risk of hurt is too great. He shouldn’t _dare_ to hope.

Still. Some tiny part of him can’t quite seem to help it.

\- - -

He makes it to Edward’s a little bit earlier than he’d anticipated. He hadn’t been able to sit still, and he’d finally just left his own place and started walking. He hadn’t walked it before, but it only took him about half an hour, and the air was pleasantly cool, and he needed to _calm down._

He’s nothing close to calm by the time he steps into the front yard. Edward and Alphonse are renting this little place towards a less built-up part of the city, and there are a couple of giant trees in the front yard. He’s just about to walk up the front path and head for the door when something catches his eye, and he turns to find Edward sitting on the fence in the front yard.

It’s just a little fence. He and Alphonse had planted a garden.

And he’s sitting with his back to Roy, his feet propped up on the rail underneath him. There’s no sign of his red jacket. He’s in a plain white sweater, and his hair’s falling loose over his back, spilling golden over his shoulders and down his back, and Roy just stops dead in his tracks.

He’s a vision, absolutely beautiful, sitting out in the moonlight with his damn vegetables.

As if Roy couldn’t fall any harder.

He must make a sound, because Edward seems to tense, and then he turns on the fence and slides off, not quite looking at him as he does. There’s a good ten feet between them, and Roy feels every second of it as Edward crosses the front yard to meet him. When he does, he’s suddenly tangible, again, no longer ethereal, human and far too gorgeous, with his obvious nervousness as he stands in front of Roy, twisting his fingers together as he bites his lip and stares at the ground.

Roy’s heart beats a bit harder. He can’t be imagining all of this. He _can’t._

“You’re early.”

It doesn’t sound like an accusation. Edward just sounds… lost.

It takes everything Roy has to keep from reaching out and brushing Edward’s hair out of his face.

“The walk here took less time than I thought it would.”

Is that his voice? _Fuck._ Could he sound any more _smitten?_

Edward doesn’t say anything, though. He just kind of shrugs, and Roy takes a breath.

Okay. Maybe he needs to do something to help, here. Edward’s got them this far, after all.

“So, you said, um, something about the river?”

It’s not exactly his most graceful segue. It must work, though, because Edward glances up at him and then nods and starts walking, and Roy takes another deep breath as he follows.

Hope. Foolish, desperate hope.

He _knows_ better. Why can’t he seem to stop himself?

\- - -

Fifteen minutes later finds them sitting on a riverbank. Roy’s been to other parts of the river, but not this particular little area. And Edward’s left a good foot of space between them, his arms wrapped around his knees, and Roy has officially run out of words to fill the silence. He’s never seen Edward look this uncomfortable, and… maybe tonight isn’t a good thing at all. Maybe Roy has completely misread the whole situation. How much of all of this is just in his head?

“Edward?”

It’s so tentative he wants to cringe, and when Edward all but flinches, Roy bites his lip.

He’s completely lost the thread of what’s happening, here.

And then Edward takes a breath, his eyes fixed out over the river.

“When I was on Earth, I had a lot of time to think. Too much, really.” His voice is very soft, and Roy feels something inside him seize. Edward never talks about Earth. “Two years, by myself. And then when Al and me were getting back here, well – we never were sure that we actually _would_. So that was another shitty couple of years. Especially since the world was falling apart around us, and we couldn’t do anything to stop it, in the end.”

He pauses, and Roy has the distinct impression that _shitty_ is an understatement.

He remembers what the Elric brothers had looked like when they’d made it back to Amestris. Alphonse had been paper thin, and Edward had looked so haunted it had been terrifying.

“Point is, I didn’t know if you were alive or dead for a long damn time. And that was a problem, because I _got_ it, suddenly, that day that you followed us to Resembool. I finally got that you were decent, and _good_ , and that you’d only been trying to help, all those years. It was like looking at something the wrong way for so long, and seeing only the broken pieces, and then suddenly everything just _fit_. And then you were gone, pretty much right after that, before I could even _begin_ to get my head around who you really were, and… I... I really didn’t enjoy being away from you.”

Edward's still not looking at him. His shoulders are tight, his hair spilling down over them, and there's something like panic clawing through Roy's belly, carving him up from the inside out.

Is this really happening? Is Roy just dreaming all of this?

“Point is, Mustang, I’ve wanted you for a long, long goddamn time. Long enough that it feels like forever. And I... never just wanted you to fuck me. I just went with that, because that’s all I thought I could get. And if I just walk away, now, and don’t say anything, I think I’ll hate myself forever, ’cause… well, I’ve figured out a few things about regret, I think. And I can’t end this without at least trying.”

His voice drops low at the end, and Roy’s mind is white noise, loud and helpless in his ears.

He can’t breathe. His heart is going to break out of his chest.

And Edward just swallows and tightens his arms around his legs, his eyes falling down to the ground, and Roy has the distinct sensation of feeling his entire world go spinning off its axis.

“I’ve... always wanted more than… what we agreed to. I want to – make you stupid waffles in the morning, and take all those stupid sappy baths together, and… sometimes, the way you look at me, or – the way you… touch me, I… think you might want the same, so… I had to at least…”

The words trail away, leaving nothing but the wind in the trees, and the sound of Roy’s heartbeat.

He still can’t say anything. There’s not enough air left for him to speak.

Then, Edward bites his lip, something closing across his face as he pushes himself to his feet.

“Ya know what? I think I’m gonna head to Xing for a few months. Or head north, maybe, see what shit I can stir up there, there’s gotta be someone who – whose ass needs kicking, or –”

Roy only realizes he’s moved when he’s already grabbed Edward’s hand. His skin is warm underneath his fingers, and Edward stops dead, his mouth snapping shut.

Roy can barely look at him, the vulnerability washing over him in waves.

He keeps holding on, though, and that must be enough, because Edward eventually swallows.

“Really?”

He doesn’t sound at all like he normally does. He sounds more shaken than Roy’s ever heard him.

It’s enough for Roy to manage a nod, and Edward hovers there for a few more seconds before he slowly moves to stand in front of him. He doesn’t let go of his hand – not for a second, his fingers tightening around Roy’s – and Roy’s heart is going to crack right through his chest if it beats any harder, his throat going even tighter as Edward seems to consider his options before he just kind of… slides into Roy’s lap. Curls up against him and on top of him, legs on either side of him in the dirt, and his face buried into the curve of Roy’s neck. Roy can feel how hard his heart is beating.

“Goddammit.” The word sounds choked, more overwhelmed than anything else, and Roy tightens his arms around him. “I – all this time, I’ve been tearing myself apart over this, and –”

“I assure you, you weren’t the only one.”

It feels wrenched out of him, and he sounds even worse, the words scraping on their way up.

His entire body is aching, his pulse hammering in his wrists and his chest and his temples.

Somehow, he manages to make his arms work well enough to tighten his grip around Edward, though his muscles feel like rubber. His entire body feels weak, and he’s maybe a bit light-headed, and then Edward sucks in a breath, and Roy can hear the sudden tinge of guilt in Edward's voice.

"But, so, you're… not mad at me, then?" It's a nonsensical question, but Edward's still going, his voice quickening like he needs to get it out. "I - just flat-out lied to you, alright, I knew I was so - _gone_ , over you, right from the start, but I thought that you would never want me for... more than sex, so I just -"

"Edward -"

"I - look, I wasn't thinking clearly, when I first got back okay? I get that, now, I - I'd just _missed_ you, _so_ much, and suddenly you were _there_ , right in front of me, and you were okay, but... you might as well have still been in another _world_ , for how far away you felt, and - I'm not making excuses, I'm _really_ not, 'cause what I did was shit, but I thought you’d never want me for more than just -"

"I hardly have any moral high ground to stand on." He makes himself flush even worse, a prickly wave of discomfort crawling across his skin. "I am... almost twice your age, and you showed up on my doorstep asking for me to - to -" No. No, he can't say it. _Teach you how to have sex_ , god, it's bad enough just _thinking_ it. "And I – I _knew_ better, I was already so _besotted_ with you, and I _knew_ better, I should have said no, but... I figured that the only one I would ever be hurting was myself, so... so, no. I am definitely not mad at you. If anyone has a reason to be angry, it's you, not -"

"Besotted, huh?"

He sounds like he's trying to make a joke of it, but not quite getting there. His hands are curling a bit deeper into the front of Roy's shirt, and Roy can't do anything but close his eye and hang on.

"If you start making fun of me, I'm going to dump you in the river."

It doesn't get the humour he was going for, either. With how hard his heart is beating, he can't manage anything more than honesty. And Edward must hear that, because he's silent, and then he swallows, and Roy feels the press of his nose against his neck as he somehow manages to squirm even closer, his voice dropping back down low as he more or less hides his face against Roy.

"I, um... I really care about you."

It's so muffled Roy can barely hear it, and Roy feels something swoop low inside his stomach.

Oh, _Ed_.

"And... and you're an _ass_ for making me into such a _sap_ , okay, how _dare_ you just -"

"I really care about you, too, Edward."

He sounds just about as rattled as Edward feels. His voice is so thick he barely gets it out.

And Edward doesn't move for a long, aching second, before he swallows so hard Roy can feel it, and there's a low mutter of, "Dammit, Mustang," against Roy's chest as Edward buries his face deeper into Roy's neck - and if Roy can feel the tears there, he's not going to say a word.

He just swallows through the itch in his own throat and pulls Edward as close as he can, holding on tight.

Somehow, it feels like something slotting into place after being broken for far too long.

\- - -

About an hour later finds them curled up on Edward's couch. Edward hadn't been in the right state of mind to direct them home, and Roy had finally been the one to tug them off the ground and get them moving. The pillows are soft against Roy's back, at the end of the couch, and Edward's curled up close against him, his cheek resting on his chest. Roy can see the tiniest hint of pink there - as though the embarrassment is finally starting to set him - and it's so cute he's pretty sure he's going to melt.

"What the hell have you done to me." It's definitely a grumble, but he's still hiding his face, and Roy's heart is too big for his chest. "If you tell  _anyone_ about any of the shit I said out there -"

He cuts off when Roy runs his fingers through his hair, letting the strands fall through his fingers, as careful and gentle as he can be about it. He's not even trying to hide the affection in his touch, anymore, and he's not surprised when Edward buries his face deeper against his chest.

"Dammit, Mustang -"

"I won't say a word."

His heart is still too big for his chest, and he carefully drags Edward's hair through his fingers again, before bending to place a kiss on the top of his head. He doesn't miss Edward's sharp little inhale, and then his voice gets even shakier, but it's like he's still determined to keep going.

"You... you're going to be insufferable now, aren't you? You're -"

"Oh, believe me, Edward." There's nothing he can do about the catch in his throat. "If you thought I was bad before, that's nothing compared to the romancing that's about to come your way."

It's true, too. He'd had to hold himself back. Now that he's  _allowed -_ well. He's going to sweet-talk and flirt and romance until Edward's a blushing mess. And Roy's going to be damn grateful for every second of it.

From the low groan that Edward lets out, he's well aware of what Roy's planning.

"I hate you, you know that?"

He's pressing even closer, though, all but squishing his face into Roy as he grumbles out the words, and Roy takes a deep breath.

He shouldn't say it. He  _really_ shouldn't.

He's going to, anyway, it seems.

"You really don't, though."

It's taking a chance. He knows it, even as he says it, and he feels his face go really hot.

Edward, in return, is quiet, before he swallows so hard Roy can feel it. His hands curl a bit tighter where they're clutching on to Roy, and Roy's heart is suddenly beating way, way too fast again.

"Yeah. I, um. I... really, really don't."

Roy can barely hear it. And when he does, he presses another kiss into Edward's hair, letting his arms go tighter around him. Edward must be able to feel how desperate Roy's heart has gone inside his chest, and Roy tries to suck in a breath, trying to stabilize himself.

This is  _real._ This is actually  _happening._ This isn't something that he's dreamed up, it's  _real._ How long has he wanted this, without ever thinking he could have it? How long has he -

"I'm finding some comfort in the fact that you feel like you're about to fly apart, too."

Edward's voice sounds a bit thick, and Roy should be embarrassed, but maybe he's too far gone for that. All he can really manage is to nod and tug Edward closer, pressing his face into his hair.

He can be honest, for once. Edward's not going to use it against him. Roy is safe here, he's -

He's not expecting Edward to move. Not expecting Edward's hand to drift down and find his, his automail cool as he laces his fingers together.

If Roy hadn't already been flying apart, he certainly would be now.

"Sap."

Edward's still trying to grumble it, but Roy can hear the fondness there, can hear the same aching affection that's burning inside his own chest, and he licks his lips, new heat spreading across his face as his mouth goes dry. It takes him a moment to get his voice working right again, and the words still stick in his throat, coming out with an honesty that he has no chance of hiding.

"And just think. All yours."

Pushing. He's pushing again. Taking a chance. Is he asking too much?

But Edward just hovers there, breathing softly between them, until his fingers carefully tighten around Roy's.

"Damn right ya are."

His voice has dropped even lower, and Roy sucks in a breath, leaning harder against Edward. He gets another tightening of Edward's fingers for that, in a way that sends warmth all across Roy's body; and then Edward sighs, and it just sounds so _happy,_ so bone-deep content, with a smile woven into the sound, that Roy can't do anything but smile, too, his stomach fluttering helplessly as he tugs Edward close and just holds on as tight as he can.

Finally. All those long years, and it seems that they've both finally stopped running. And Roy's never going to let anything tear them apart again.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone fancies being [tumblr](http://twisting-vine-x.tumblr.com/) buddies, I'm always happy to make new RoyEd friends.


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